


Smitten

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [33]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Gen, Sibling Love, but self contained its just straight up adorable chaos siblings being cute, except its SUPER bittersweet in the context of the verse as a whole, just fluffy really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 00:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19897084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Ah, young love.(Virgil thinks it’s funny; Greta’s going to commit fratricide if he doesn’tshut up)





	Smitten

**Author's Note:**

> i got exactly two (2) people who said they'd be happy to read 1900's chaos siblings content and went hog wild, basically

“What the hell is he _doing!”_ Greta hissed. She was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, just under her bedroom window.

“Stupid question,” said Virgil, standing next to the window and grinning widely, “He’s very clearly reciting poetry. And from the lack of quality, it’s poetry he _wrote_ ,”

“I mean what is he _thinking,_ obviously!” Greta whispered, “It’s the middle of the night! What if someone sees him?”

“Oh, you choose _now_ to be concerned with propriety, very convenient,” said Virgil, “And it’s _hardly_ the middle of the night, the sun’s been down fifteen minutes,”

He hadn’t taken his eyes of the scrawny teenager looking up his sister’s window, and in spite of the fact that Tobias Fischer looked about one stray stumbled couplet away from fainting, he hadn’t stopped his recitation.

“This is easily the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” snickered Virgil, “He’s got the prose of a drunk and the enthusiasm of a toddler. ‘Your hair is like the night’ can barely be considered creative and it’s definitely not original,”

Tobias was bright red at this point, but he still didn’t stop. Virgil wasn’t actually sure if the kid could hear him from this high up or not – he wasn’t sure which option was funnier. With his toothpick limbs and stuttering, mediocre poetry, it was borderline absurd of him to be looking up at the window of the most notorious girl in town, with _Virgil_ staring him down, and not have enough self-preservation to even lower his voice.

“You are missing out on some top quality comedy, Greta, you-”

Virgil glanced down, and immediately stopped short.

“Are you _blushing?_ ”

“Shut _up!”_ she hissed, tugging furiously on a bit of her hair. It had been a stupid question, because Virgil had eyes, and she was, in fact, bright crimson.

“You _are,_ ”

“I said shut _up_ , you bonehead!” she said. She covered her face with her hands and made some kind of strangled noise.

“You _like_ him,” realized Virgil, astonished, “Oh my stars, you _like_ him! You think this is cute! You’re _blushing_ like a smitten schoolgirl-”

“I will _hold you down_ and pour _salt_ down your throat if you don’t _stop talking_ right this _instant!_ ” she shrieked.

Silence.

“Uh- Miss Baumgartener?” Tobias called from below, “Was that directed at me, or the, um- the prince?”

“Kill me,” said Greta bluntly.

“No,”

“If you love me you’ll kill me,” she whined.

“Don’t be a coward,” said Virgil, amused, “Come on, it’s one human boy. I’ve seen you stare down red-caps,”

“Red-caps don’t-!” she sputtered, looking up toward the window like it held a hornet’s nest, “Don’t- write me stupid- silly love poems like, like, like we’re in some kind of- some kind of _novel_ , and they certainly don’t _recite_ them outside my _bedroom window!”_

“Oh no,” deadpanned Virgil, “What on earth will you do? The audacity,”

“For the love of Eve and all her daughters I _will_ end you if you don’t do something!”

“Like what?” said Virgil dryly, “Do you want me to scare him off?”

Greta looked utterly lost for words, and her face was still totally scarlet. She opened and closed her mouth several times.

“I mean it,” said Virgil, suddenly a little worried, “I can make him leave. Do you want me to?”

She had one hand fisted in her skirt, and she bit her lip, considering.

She got up on her knees and peeked over the sill. Tobias waved, and Virgil snorted, giving him a little salute. Greta made a small squeaking noise that under normal circumstances Virgil would have instantly mocked her for, but he was a little worried she was going to burst into flame.

She ducked out of the window again.

“…Grettie?”

“I’m going outside,” she blurted suddenly, scrambling to her feet and going for the door.

“In the dark, alone? How ever will you defend your virtue?” Virgil deadpanned.

“Oh, go stuff a sock in your mouth you overgrown pixie!” she hissed before closing the door behind her.

Virgil turned back to the window, looking down at Tobias.

He looked distinctly awkward, and Virgil gave him a smile that probably showed just a bit too much of his teeth. He held up one of his knives, waving it, and Tobias went a little green.

Good. He was at least smart enough to understand a threat when he saw it, silent even as it was.

Greta came out the front door, and… well.

Tobias turned to look at her, and all his color came back at once. He beamed, absolutely besotted, so happy that if Virgil hadn’t been looking at him the whole time he might have thought Tobias _hadn’t_ actually seen Virgil vaguely implying violence.

Well. That… that was something.

He turned away, sliding down to sit on the floor.

Virgil very deliberately did not listen to anything they said, chatting with the few of his sisters Greta allowed in her room (“If the little Misses could restrain themselves from covering my room in webbing I wouldn’t have to limit them to ten at a time, would I?”) and pointedly lifted them off the window ledge every time they tried to spy.

Eventually, Greta’s enthusiastic footsteps thundered back up, and she threw the door open, flushed and slightly manic-looking.

“That was fast,” said Virgil dryly.

Greta grabbed the nearest throw-able object, which happened to be a pewter cup full of water, and chucked it directly at his head.

He batted it away, cackling.

“Don’t be _disgusting!_ ” she said shrilly.

“I didn’t say anything disgusting!”

“Salt! Sneaking salt in all your food, and I’m going to tie bells to my shoes-”

“Alright, alright, calm down,” said Virgil. “Are you going to tell me, or not?”

Greta tugged self-consciously at her hair again.

“He just- gave me the poem,” she said, gesturing to the bit of black-inked paper in her hands.

“Is it as embarrassingly awful written down as it was when he was blurting it out under your window?”

Greta bit her lip. She was quiet just a bit too long, and Virgil’s smile fell a bit.

“… What’s wrong?” he said.

“I-”

She grimaced.

“Don’t laugh,” she said suddenly.

Virgil recoiled a little. He could count on one hand the number of times she’d made such a request.

“I won’t,” he said seriously.

She crossed her arms.

“Well- you know, he shows up at night, with- with poems, and declaring his love, and I thought-”

“… you thought _what_ , exactly?” said Virgil, wondering if he even _wanted_ to know the answer.

“I thought he was trying to-” she waved her hand around frantically, “You know! Elope with me!”

Virgil was still having a bit of trouble seeing the problem. Greta’s arms were still crossed, and she kept intermittently glaring at the poem in her hand.

“Are you-” Virgil started, hesitant, “Are you… disappointed?”

Greta’s scowl deepened.

Virgil’s mouth twitched.

“You said you wouldn’t _laugh, Bruderspinne!”_

“I’m not laughing,” he said honestly, grinning at her, “I’m- it isn’t that it’s funny,”

She looked a little confused. Virgil stood up, crossing the room and hesitating just out of arms reach. He opened his arms, just a little.

Greta’s face softened.

“Sap,” she said fondly, wrapping her arms around his ribs. He squeezed her, still grinning, and set his chin on top of her head.

“You’re in love, it’s cute, you’re just going to have to deal with it,”

“I am going to be _insufferable_ if you ever fall in love, and you will deserve every single moment of it,” she grumbled, “It won’t be pretty. I will have _no_ restraint,”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” said Virgil.

He was still grinning, and he was sure Greta could feel it where his chin was digging into her head, but she didn’t complaint.

“No eloping, though,” he said, “Not allowed,”

“Why the hell not?” she said, “You can’t tell me what to do,”

“Because he looked at you like you painted the sky by hand when you came out the front door in a ratty skirt and a half-done braid – you are _not_ depriving me of the chance to watch him faint when he sees you in a wedding dress,”

Greta squawked, swatting at his side, but Virgil just squeezed her tighter until she laughed set her forehead on his shoulder.

Virgil figured she could have worse taste than a scraggy, uninspired poet.

(Not by a _lot_ , but – still.)

**Author's Note:**

> i am also [ tuipscomeinallsortsofcolors ](tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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